


Break the Ice

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, Hallucinations, Mick thinks Len's a hallucination at first, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Canon Compliant, inconsequential Legion of Doom, no non-con between Len and Mick, references Len's death at the Oculus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: *I*****KM*****C*





	Break the Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [blot out the sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331030) by [CallicoKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten). 



> Found this dark gem in my folder of fanfics. Do note the content warnings and please enjoy fandom responsibly.

They found him wandering around, scrutinizing his surroundings as if searching for something… or someone, as Merlyn suspected.  Someone who’s name was on his lips yet tangled in his Oculus-scrambled mind.

Nothing took away his prowess with the cold gun, though.  He fought as fiercely and desperately as a trapped animal, so that’s how Thawne treated him when they eventually subdued him.  Thawne tossed him strips of meat and forced water down his throat at random intervals.  He refused to touch his food at first; those thief’s instincts sensed Thawne’s concoctions laced into them.  He lost over twenty pounds before his stomach conquered his brain.

He escaped more times than Darhk would’ve liked—enough times for Merlyn to not give a damn anymore.  Merlyn looked down and sighed at his latest attempt before returning to more pressing work.  Darhk kicked him when he tried to scrabble away.

Thawne waltzed in humming merrily before hauling him back to his cell.  He broke some bones, sliced some skin, and reopened wounds from their last session.  No matter what, his pet responded with gritted teeth and occasionally a snarl.

Thawne bored quickly.  He experimented with whips, suffocation, knives: all of his tools to force a reaction out of him.  Like Thomas Edison with the lightbulb, he finally had a breakthrough—on accident no less!

“Stop....” Cold moaned while Thawne was dabbing down Cold’s blood from today’s session.  Hours of supersonic jabs to his stomach and skull yet gentleness was what shattered him?

In retrospect, Thawne should’ve guessed this from Cold’s upbringing.

Thawne’s lips curled.  He sped in and out, replacing this scratchy rag with a fluffy towel.  He resumed dabbing Cold until the latter was a whimpering lapdog who’d collapsed backwards into Thawne’s embrace.

Cold’s breath hitched when Thawne’s mattress molded to his broken body.  Thawne would pet and hold him on nights where missions left Thawne too exhausted for additional activities.

Yet many nights left the speedster with energy to burn.

* * *

Thawne steadily chipped away at the iceberg melting underneath him.  The Legion’s initial paranoia that Cold would recover his memories of the Legends seemed silly now.  Some nights, he couldn’t remember his own name.

“Eo....”

This was such a night.  The only high this adrenaline junkie sought now was orgasmic bliss.  His slate eyes glazed with tears as Thawne wrenched another gush of cum from him.  He whimpered and shivered as Thawne continued pumping Cold’s cock and tweaking Cold’s nipples.  Thawne ignored Cold’s insistence that he was tapped out.

“Eo—Eo, please!” quaked Cold.  Pain had long conquered pleasure under Thawne’s ministrations.

Thawne nibbled Cold’s earlobe before shushing him, “You’re doing so well, my handsome snowflake.”

Silky praise fluttered through his ears, glittering touches glided across his skin; Cold couldn’t defend against either on their own, never mind both in tandem.  Cold fainted into Thawne’s bed when his cock coughed out its absolute last beads of cum.

Thawne cleaned them up at super speed and curled around his pet like a cat.  He smirked, absorbing the delicious scent of victory once more.  Enjoying his captive pleased him as much as reprogramming him.

* * *

One mission left Thawne with frustration stinging his mind.  Failure was only supposed to occur when he intended to fail, yet those damn Legends...

Thawne’s mood softened when he prowled into his bedroom.  Cold, as always, was napping naked and plugged with Thawne’s cum.  Cold’s eyes snapped at attention after Thawne gently rolled him over.  He unplugged Cold and buried into him so fast that not a drop escaped—didn’t give Cold a chance to perceive a pang of emptiness from the loss.  Thawne was generous like that.  Just because he was having a bad day doesn’t mean he ought to take it out on his pet.

* * *

Mick stumbled into an alcove of the Legion’s headquarters and brushed off its contents as yet another hallucination: Len with his wrists cuffed to a headboard and his ass stuffed with a yellow plug.  If his mind was gonna tease him with naked Len, the least it could do was not bastardize him into a cadaverous marionette.

A haze swirled in Not Len’s eyes as they met Mick’s soulless gaze.  Not Len squinted at him as if even those few feet separating them strained his vision beyond its limits.

Not Len pulled against his cuffs, panting from the effort, “....Mick.”

Mick snorted and sneered at this illusory impostor.

“....Mick,” Not Len tried again. “I love you.”

Mick’s eyebrows knitted together, but he still didn’t budge from the door.

“I love you!” cried Not Len, who sobbed it over and over like a prayer for deliverance or a plea for forgiveness. “I love you!  I love you!!  I love you!!!”

It took everything Mick had to stay on his feet rather than drop to his knees.  His calloused hands trembled as he unlocked his partner.  Len wept and trembled in his partner’s embrace.  His captor’s cum stampeded down his tender thighs.  Mick wiped Len down with his shirt before swaddling him in his jacket and socks.  They didn’t cover or warm nearly as much as they needed.

Mick didn’t stop until Len was on a cot in the _Waverider_.  Mick didn’t rest or respond to anyone, not even Gideon, while sleep and detoxing dragged Len onto death’s porch.  One of Mick’s hands latched onto one of Len’s while Mick’s other hand fiddled with their wedding rings.  Eventually, Gideon cleared Len to move back into their quarters.

Len gasped awake and scrabbled at Mick’s tank top.  Len sunk into Mick, grounding himself in Mick’s ash-and-alcohol scent, nuzzling Mick’s a-centimeter-too-long stubble.  By now, Mick tentatively accepted that Len wasn’t a hallucination, yet Len wasn’t entirely sure if Mick was truly here or just a dream.

Len didn’t leave their quarters unless Mick brought Len with him, and Mick didn’t leave Len’s side except to make arrangements for the team to drop them off at Len’s favorite safehouse.  The Legends released them unceremoniously at a snow-cushioned chalet: a wintery sanctuary from Central’s chaos.

They settled in the master bedroom.  Mick nursed a beer with his free hand while his other twined with one of Len’s.  Len nested under a duvet and up against his partner.  Mick was still ten pounds heavier than normal, whereas Len was still ten pounds lighter than normal.  Mick set his beer on the night stand to stroke Len’s hair.

“His hands...” Len’s whispers sounded haunted, “his hands feel smooth.  They don’t stop touching me!” Mick reached around to hug him.  Len melted into him, “Your hands don’t hurt....”

They held onto each other like their lives were on the line.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this; enjoy what you do here and everywhere.


End file.
